


Black and White

by fedettomo



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Angst, Comfort, David is also soft but he doesn't like to admit it either, Eric Fletcher Waters, M/M, Nick Mason - Freeform, Rick Wright - Freeform, Roger Waters - Freeform, Roger is emotional but he doesn't always like to admit it, and a bit of romance, david gilmour - Freeform, its technically a valentine's fic but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9839747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fedettomo/pseuds/fedettomo
Summary: "There were so many emotions. Not all were good, not all were bad.Black and white."Roger and David always considered their relationship to be rather unconventional. Built almost entirely off of emotions that ran far deeper than either of them ever realised, there almost never seemed to be an in-between. It was nearly impossible to achieve the good without having to endure the bad.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I came up with this idea for Valentine's Day, but I unfortunately did not have the time to finish it by then. However, it is still fully capably of being understood under any given time of the year.  
> This is entirely a work of my imagination and is complete fiction.
> 
> Eric Fletcher Waters ~ died 18 February 1944 
> 
> <3

David tried his best to walk with confidence in order to hide whatever nervousness was attempting to make an outward display from within. Facing Roger at random, when he isn’t expecting anybody, is like drawing a random card from the deck and trying to predict exactly what you’re going to get. Sometimes, he could be incredibly open and tender, but most of the sweet encounters were always smeared over with memories of bitterness and anger. If you were lucky enough, he might even display a range of emotions. You just never knew what you were going to get.

David supposed that’s what drew him to Roger in the first place. Their first encounters hadn’t been entirely pleasant, and the emotions present only seemed to plant themselves within each of them and grow over time. However, there was still something inexplicable there. There was an incredible lure to Roger that David would never be able to fully comprehend, and he knew Roger felt it too. Their relationship was anything but normal. It was the type that was too unhealthy to go on but too rare to end.

The only thing David knew for sure was that no matter how terrible times could be or how angry he could feel, he still felt that familiar feeling when he thought of Roger, even if he could never bring himself to fully admit it…

Love.

Maybe not your dictionary definition or some clichéd version, but it was still recognisable, even in a very obscure form that quite possibly wasn’t to be found anywhere else on earth. David stopped before the familiar hotel door that he knew Roger dwelt behind. He briefly pondered the room number…

524 seemed like a lot of rooms for a small hotel overlooking the ocean in Los Angeles… especially since there were only four floors.

He frowned at his poor attempts at trying to distract himself and instead took a deep breath as he raised his hand to knock on the door. But then he heard it. Was that… crying?

David froze and leaned in closer to the door. He could hear deep, racking sobs, almost as if Roger didn’t know how to cry. Or as if he was desperately trying not to. David listened for a few more moments, but everything suddenly went silent. Not a single sound drifted through the door, and suddenly, David felt a rising urge to panic. He tried his best to calm his elevating nerves as he lifted his hand once more and this time knocked boldly on the door. There was no reply, but David knew he couldn’t sound too overbearing. He waited a few more seconds before knocking again, but there was still nothing in return. Starting to feel the full effects of panic about to set it, he raised his hand to knock a third time and call out to Roger, but a voice from the other side finally rang back.

"Just a minute, I just need to…"

David felt a large portion of the tension held within him escape in a deep sigh as he physically relaxed a bit in posture. He didn’t want to press further, so he let Roger take his time. Thankfully, it was only another minute or so before Roger cracked open his door and peered outside. He appeared a bit distant and disturbed, which made David fear that he might not want a real conversation. Instead of trying to fight it from out in the hall, he gave the door a strong push with his right hand with keeping his left behind his back. Roger was not anticipating the sudden shove backwards and was rather weak in response, allowing David to come right into his room.

"David, what the fuck are you-"

"This isn’t the time for that, Roger."

"Well, what the hell is this all about then?" Roger shot back with his hands on his hips. Despite the tension currently being emitted from Roger, David still had to smile, albeit just slightly. David had pushed the door open with enough strength to make Roger step back defensively to guard something on the room’s desk, allowing David to have just enough room to close the door behind him. The lights were off, but the setting sun reflecting on the chilly water outside framed Roger in a bath of orange and golden light. Despite Roger’s emotions and distress, beauty could still be found if one just knew where to look.

"Don’t you know what day it is?" David asked innocently. Roger looked away and sighed impatiently as if thinking about his reply. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were a bit puffy, but David pretended not to notice. It would only provoke Roger’s agitated state to become worse.

"No, and I don’t care either."

Now, it was David’s time to sigh. Of course Roger knew what day it was.

Roger must’ve caught on to David’s thinking because he looked back up and replied, "I hate this holiday. Why do we have to have a special day to get all sappy and express our love to people we think we like? It just sounds so boring to me. And people get all romantic with pointless little dinners and chocolates…. I’ve always hated it. It’s just like any other day to me…"

"Maybe that’s just because nobody’s ever shown you what love really feels like, Roger. Are you just too paranoid that everybody really hates you? Do you just hate to see the connections others can make while you feel like you will never have a chance at them too? Why do you hate it so much, Roger? How can anyone hate something that is meant to be the complete opposite of hate itself?"

Roger’s eyes were practically boring holes into David’s by the time David finished speaking. David swallowed down his fear nervously, but he refused to give in. Not after he had come this far and gotten this close. A few infinite seconds seemed to pass by before Roger’s voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence between them.

"Get out."

There were no additional words or extra explanations. The demand was curt, yet potentially deadly. David refused to move.

"I said to get out."

Roger’s voice was rising now. The edges of complete anger were beginning to splay themselves across Roger’s face in tints of red.

"Get the fuck out!"

Roger was yelling now, but volume had no effect on David. He remained unfazed. Roger was coming closer now.

"Are you fucking deaf? Get the FUCK out!"

Roger’s voice nearly cracked under the tension. His yelling was becoming fluent with a constant stream of profanities, but David didn’t move. Only when Roger finally gave him a hard shove towards the door did David gain the strength to yell back.

"Why, Roger? Because I’m right? Because you hate to admit that the same person you constantly say, 'I hate you' to is the same person who would never leave you for anything? Because you feel guilt over the fact that you know that you messed up, but you can’t bear to admit it? I get it if you really hate me, Roger, but I just wanted to let you know that I still care. I cared enough to at least come here and show you that! I cared enough to actually bring you something to prove it! I cared enough to actually have the decency to be honest with myself!" 

David’s yelling mixed with Roger’s at first, but suddenly, Roger’s broke off with David’s last words, allowing them to ring clearly in the space between the two. They were both out of breath from yelling, but Roger regained his composure as his face began to flush to its soft, pale shade once more. he took a step back and studied David for a minute before he spoke.

"You mean you…. brought me something? You actually…" Roger’s voice trailed off as he struggled to comprehend his mass of thoughts.

David’s ghostly smile reappeared as he nodded gently. He didn’t care too much how Roger responded, as long as he knew that he was finally getting through. Roger turned around and faced the window. His figure became a mere outline before David’s eyes. Words unspoken were the only things that filled the cramped room.

"I care about you, Roger. I didn’t want you to be alone, and I heard you…. I heard you crying."

Roger stiffened up but did not turn back around. David obliged himself not to be the first to speak this time, but for a few wavering moments he expected Roger to say nothing or to completely avoid the fact presented. 

"You’re right, David… I was… but not for the reasons you might think… Do you know when my father was killed?"

Roger remained unmoved from his framing position against the sunset. David shifted his weight between his feet a bit before replying, "1944…?"

"Yes, but when? Do you know when?"

David thought for a moment, and it struck him that he didn’t. At one point, he probably knew, but he had never bothered to remember the detail. Even though he felt a bit guilty, it was never something he dared to speak openly about. He shook his head, but upon realising that Roger still could not see him, he timidly admitted, "no."

Roger let out a sigh. It was not deep or in an upset way. It was more one of pensive thought as Roger began to speak, "He was killed on the 18th of February 1944 in Anzio… Italy…" Roger turned halfway back to facing David, allowing his face to be framed as a golden tear streamed down his illuminated cheek and fell slowly to the carpet below. David was silent as he waited for Roger to continue. His voice was beginning to weaken as it went up slightly in pitch. "Nobody had contact with him during his last few days, but what was he thinking? How did he feel about having to leave a wife and two young kids back home when this was supposed to be a time of love, not constant bombing and warfare? Everybody else was probably celebrating with their loved ones, but it wasn’t fair. He was robbed from a family who loved him dearly, and he never even got the chance to find that out from me or express it himself…" Roger began to cry harder now as he covered his face and turned back away from David.

David remained fixated on the ground upon which he stood. He suddenly began to feel his own remorse creeping up inside him, but he tried to push it aside to let Roger finish. As Roger’s composure improved, he slowly began to speak again. His voice cracked regularly this time as he tried his hardest to keep his emotions back, but his deep breathing caused him to regularly pause to hold himself together. "I found a letter once… It was mixed in with all my father’s things that my mother received after his… d-death. She had shown me a letter before…. It was from Christmas… Christmas of 1943. My father wrote home to say just how much he loved us… all of us… and how desperately he wanted to be home with us. He ended it by telling my mother to constantly remind my brother… and me… just how much he loved us. He said, 'tell them that I love them more than anything and that all I want is for them to be happy.' I thought that was the last letter he had ever wrote. It was what my mother told me all the time growing up… but one day… I found all his stuff and looked through it. That’s when I found another letter… a letter that had never been mailed… It was in an envelope… with a stamp on it that had never been marked… and the parchment with stained by water and… and it was stained with… blood…. The date was the 14th of February 1944… Valentine’s Day… It was hard to read, but I could make out the last sentence… 'Nothing will ever be able to change just how much I love you, my wife, and our two boys. I am so blessed to be your husband and their father.' Four days later… he was… dead. The wife, the kids, the country, the people… everything…. everything he so loved he died for… and he sealed it with his own blood…"

Roger was crying uncontrollably upon stating the final words. Everything he had been holding inside in order to speak was let out in one big gush. David rushed forward and grabbed Roger’s shoulders to steady him. Roger wrapped him arms around David’s middle so hard that David thought he would start to gasp for breath too just because of the level of constriction. Between sobs, Roger continued to tell his story. "It’s just n-not… it’s not f-fair, David…. How can those who-who love the m-most be so p-powerless… so powerless in the f-face of all the h-hatred of… of war… and of v-violence? How can I ever… ever b-be able to love as much… as much as he d-did? I feel so w-weak, David… l-like I’m n-never going to amount to much… to m-much of anything… All I have are s-some lyrics… but I’ve never really f-felt…"

David was speechless as Roger trailed off and fought to keep his breathing steady. He could do nothing other than cling just as tightly to Roger and keep him upright. In all the times that David had fought with Roger, he had never seen him shift to such an extreme. Roger had become upset over his father before, but he had never fallen prey to his own emotions. It was as if a strong wave of empathy had overridden David, and he began to feel guilty for ever assuming….

Roger’s breathing gradually shifted back to normal, and he drew carefully away from David’s hold, but David made sure that he could not completely escape by taking a firm grasp of Roger’s upper arms. David removed his left hand slowly and held it out between them. Roger had been too distracted to notice the two roses David had been holding the entire time.

"What are…?"

"I told you that I brought you something. You even asked…" David let his right hand loosen its grip and fall away as Roger meticulously grasped the two flowers. He held them carefully in both hands as he studied their colours and shapes. They weren’t any ordinary roses. David had spent careful consideration in picking the two he thought would be best. He decided on one black and one white.

"They’re… they’re… quite… unique, David… where did you ever find these?"

"I tend to be able to get my way rather easily when I know just what I’m looking for," David smiled with softly. Roger really did seem to take an interest in his choice. David knew he would. "There is no in between with us, is there? We bring out the best of each other and also the worst at times. Even when everything seems like shit in life, not everything is bad… I think it’s just a healthy reminder…."  A smile was slowly reappearing on Roger’s face as he looked up. The ice in his eyes had melted, and their overflowing water had poured down his cheeks mere minutes ago. Now, they were beginning to freeze back over, but David could still see between the cracks and into the vast pale blue that was hidden behind Roger’s steely front. "You’re going soft, David."

Roger laughed softly and turned to go out onto the balcony. David watched after him but made no move to follow. He had seen beyond Roger’s front enough to know that he really had liked the flowers. Roger could never admit just how much because he had already lost enough pride for one day, but David decided he would let it go. Roger didn’t always have to speak to say what was on his mind when he was near David.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

David had spent the next few minutes in silence as he observed Roger smoking a cigarette with his back turned to the room out on the balcony. The gentle breeze cast golden flickers through Roger’s hair as he casually leaned against the railing and looked out upon the street and ocean below. David had left Roger to collect his thoughts by himself a little while, but David slowly rose and went to join his companion.

Roger didn’t even react to the sound of the glass door sliding open, and David stepped out into the frigid February air. David smiled at Roger’s unwillingness to acknowledge him, so he carefully slid his arms around Roger’s middle to give him a hug from behind.

"What the fuck are you-"

Roger quickly moved to turn around but ended up becoming completely locked in David’s embrace with both of them now facing each other. Roger was pinned against the metal railing as David held him there firmly. David wanted to laugh at how shocked Roger looked. 

"David! Fucking stop it! What if somebody sees?"  "Who, Roger? Who would see us? It’s getting dark, and we’re practically alone this high up."

"What about Rick? Or Nick? Or literally anybody else on the tour with us? What the hell would we tell them?"

David shrugged. "The truth? That we’ve been seeing each other for months now, and there really shouldn’t be a reason to keep it from them any longer?"

"No fucking way! We agreed that we wouldn’t tell anybody! That included the rest of the band."

"Well, what if I told you that Rick already knows?" David grinned as Roger’s mouth dropped open, and his cheeks began to turn a deeper shade of red to match the blaze in his eyes.

"YOU FUCKING TOLD HIM?"

David couldn’t help but laugh now, which only angered Roger further. "No, you did!"

"I HAVEN’T SAID A FUCKING WORD! THAT WAS THE DEAL!"

"Well, maybe more showed than told actually… remember that one time we all went out to dinner after the gig in New York a few months ago?"

Roger’s eyes suddenly dimmed, but his cheeks only gained more colour. Embarrassment.

"You were so fucking hard I didn’t even think you would be able to stand up straight…"

Roger scowled, and another emotion washed over his face. Disbelief. "Well, if you could only keep your fucking hands to yourself, I wouldn’t have to worry about it!"

David was laughing much harder now, but he couldn’t help it. Teasing Roger never got old. "I’m kidding, Roger! Rick didn’t see anything. I mean, if he did, he never admitted it. Nobody has. And you liked it anyway!"

"You fucking cunt! That’s not funny! And I don’t even know what to believe anymore!"

"You did though! You did like it…"

Roger smiled shyly despite himself this time and spoke barely above a whisper, "maybe."

"Definitely did."

"Fuck off, David!" 

They both giggled now for a few seconds before stopping to look into each other’s eyes for a moment. The cracks were nearly healed in Roger’s eyes, and David wanted to savour the remaining time he had left. He never knew when the rare opportunity would come again and the ice would melt away.

However, it only was a brief few seconds before Roger was writhing to get out of David’s grip again, but David refused to let him go.

"Seriously, David. What if somebody sees us?"

"What does it matter, Roger? Nobody else is out on their balconies, and it’s too dark to properly see us from down below. It is Valentine’s Day after all… we’re probably just another couple like the millions of others. We could probably even pass as a straight couple in this kind of lighting and elevation!"

"Yes, and you would most certainly be the bird," Roger smirked. No matter what situation he was in, he never lost his wit.

"Oh, fuck off, Roger. I’m just trying to comfort you. Isn’t that what people do? I just want to move on… what happened is in the past now… Even if the world can be incredibly brutal at times, it doesn’t always need to be…"

"You are so fucking soft, David…" came Roger’s reply, but it wasn’t in any way harsh or demeaning. It was almost said in a tone of agreement, even though the context might say otherwise. David was never a man of words. He had always been a man of sounds who painted the world with invisible swirls of melodies and emotion. Invisible words written between the lines of context always were the most comprehensible to him.

Roger smiled but said nothing. The last rays of sun pressed its heat upon their bodies as they seemed to take shape around each other and relax to the vast world of life below. They had moved to something beyond that world. A paradigm where nothing else mattered in that moment except for each other’s company.

Roger looked back up and met David’s eyes one last time. The ice had nearly been reformed entirely, but there was still an inkling of glowing embers beneath the surface. David couldn’t let the chance elude him. He leaned in gently as his eyes flickered shut. He felt Roger’s eyelashes brush against his own cheeks as their lips met softly at first. Soon, Roger was wrapping his arms around David’s neck and pulled him closer. All the passion and words that were inexpressible in any other way finally came to life in the dying light of day. There were so many emotions. Not all were good, not all were bad. 

Black and white.

The sun’s last rays fell behind the ocean outstretched before them, and the clouds sucked away all the remaining warmth from the surrounding air.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

David rested in bed as he took a slow drag on the cigarette held precariously between two of his fingers. He exhaled slowly for the last time as he watched the smoke swirl and loop around in the moonlight streaming in from the glass leading to the balcony. When all the smoke finished entwining itself and dissipating into the dense air, he looked down at Roger who was sleeping beside him. His breathing had been getting increasingly deeper, but he had not moved a bit. He was resting on his side in order to face David. David could see the moonlight reflecting off and glimmering in Roger’s hair. It was a direct contrast to Roger’s dark and sunken face lurking within the shadows of the space between them.

Black and white.

David leaned to his opposite side and stubbed his cigarette out on the nightstand before turning back to face Roger on his own side. Despite Roger’s dark features becoming even more prominent in the night, David still smiled to himself as he visually traced Roger’s parted lips and soft eyelashes. He tried to remember the way they had felt as they brushed against his cheeks out on the balcony. 

After breaking apart, they had made their way back into the room. Roger selected a Billie Holiday album with a shy smile as he put it on the turntable in the corner. They talked and laughed and drank and smoked before it began to become increasingly darker outside and the moonlight started to stream in. Eventually, they found their way to the bed after flipping the record over as the last remnants of "All of Me" drifted throughout the room and molded to the atmosphere surrounding them. They remained on the bed together just sharing a drink and listening intently in each other’s presence to the rest of the other side. Eventually, Roger had began to drift off as the record crinkled statically and hit the dead wax signalling the end of the album, leaving them in their current positions.

David smiled as he recalled the events of the day. Many cards had been drawn, but David knew there was something still missing… something he had denied himself too many times already.

Leaning in carefully, David placed a light kiss to Roger’s forehead before pulling back and allowing his own eyes to flicker shut. Roger’s breathing remained unchanged, and he did not move. He tended to be a very deep sleeper most of the time, as David had carefully observed during their tour nights spent together. It left Roger appearing so vulnerable and unaware… just the kind of cover that David was looking for.

"I love you, Roger."

As the relief and honest admittance flowed from his mouth, David felt the soothing shadow of sleep beginning to creep throughout his brain. He finally felt as though the day was truly complete and could be considered finished. He smiled to himself as the overwhelming sensation of lethargy began to drown out his consciousness in order to replace it with a state of complacent dreaming.

However, the feeling was fleeting as a voice shattered the enervated state. David didn’t even have to open his eyes to hear the smile in Roger’s voice when he spoke.

"I told you that you were soft, David."


End file.
